


waste another mile

by pummelwhack



Category: Marvel (Movies)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-08
Packaged: 2018-01-18 16:37:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1435402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pummelwhack/pseuds/pummelwhack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The road suits them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	waste another mile

**Author's Note:**

> Post-movie road trip shenanigans. Also, a shameless vehicle for my preference of Natasha/ladies.
> 
> Title taken from an Asteroids Galaxy Tour song.

"I heard Monica from legal got a job at Stark Industries."

Steve's eyes dart up to acknowledge her for a moment before dropping back to his notepad, where he's sketching an assortment of wings around a list of three items: _A Few Good Men_ , _Pulp Fiction_ , and _Stand By Me_. The rentals are stacked on the small, wire-framed table between them.

"Lots of that going around," Steve says, non-committal. Natasha hums in agreement; she doesn't really _care_ , but she's trying to push the conversation in a certain direction here.

"I know she's interested in you."

Steve laughs through his nose. "Do you, now?"

"No," Natasha admits. "But I know she likes men."

That gets his attention. He levels her with a look of amusement, lip curled at the corner in that confusing way of his—equal parts cocky and sincere. "And how did you find that out?"

She waves a negligent hand, sticking her nose up. "Not important."

Steve laughs from his chest now, soft and rumbling. The pen in his hand resumes its mindless motions. "Maybe your instincts aren't as sharp as you think."

What the hell does that mean?

Natasha stares at him, brow furrowed in bewilderment. She's trained for this; she's trained to get answers, to uncover deception. She once managed to unravel the private plans of a demi-god made famous by his wit and cleverness. She did that in a single conversation. How does this man, who is honest about everything, keep throwing her for a loop?

Steve, either oblivious or unbothered, continues to sketch.

They're relaxing out on the balcony after a long night of driving; day had only just broken an hour prior to their arrival in Columbus. Deciding on a hotel took some time, but only because Natasha's still trying to keep a low profile. She cut her hair again and wears it in choppy layers now. It's easier to take care of when they're constantly on the road.

"She's your type," Natasha presses, unable to let this go. "Opinionated. Pain in the ass."

"Oh, is _that_ my type?"

He's teasing her, but Natasha smiles anyway. "She's also really gorgeous."

"Then maybe _you_ should date her."

"Likes men, remember?"

"Yeah, well." And then Sam joins them on the balcony, stealing a Ritz cracker from the pack lying open on the table. Steve closes his notepad and gives Sam his attention.

"DVD player's hooked up," Sam says. They've been traveling with a DVD player and a coffee maker—the few luxuries Natasha's willing to spare trunk space for. This isn't a road trip, after all; it's a rescue op. They need weapons. Lots of weapons. Lots of first aid supplies.

"Hill hasn't pinged since last night," Steve says, looking a little dejected. Maria, who is pulling so many strings for them at her new job, is their eye in the sky. The instant Bucky's face pops up on a traffic camera, security camera, satellite feed, social media stream: they know. Steve's made it abundantly clear that he'll chase Bucky all over the country. Natasha and Sam have made it equally clear that they'll go wherever he goes.

Home is an elusive myth these days—after everything that happened, it's difficult to feel like they can keep any particular ground beneath their feet for very long.

The road suits them.

The mission has its drawbacks, though. Bucky rarely stays in one place for more than a few days, and often, by the time they've managed to catch up to the last ping, a new one surfaces elsewhere. It can feel like a wild goose chase at times.

And other times, _they're_ the ones who ping on _HYDRA's_ radar, and the seemingly endless supply of goons chase them off course. Natasha's still nursing some tender knuckles from their last engagement.

"I wouldn't mind kicking back for a bit," Sam says in a way that sounds like he's trying to console Steve more than anything. "Let's grab some sandwiches from that corner store across the street and watch the movies while we wait."

Steve rewards him with a half-smile—the kind he tucks into the corner of his mouth like he's saving it for later.

Natasha watches this exchange with interest.

  
  


The room has two beds, but they all pile together on one, because traveling and fighting and living together has kindled a bond that usurps the professional pretense under which this entire thing began.

It's not a necessary arrangement anymore. They're not soldiers banding together under the immediate threat of war. Natasha and Sam are here out of genuine compassion for Steve. They're friends now—all three of them.

So they stack pillows against the headboard and settle in for an afternoon of classic movie education.

Steve feels tense and uncomfortable at Natasha's side through all of _Pulp Fiction_ and _A Few Good Men_. The latter she understands—themes of political corruption bear an unfriendly reminder—but Natasha _loves_ Pulp Fiction. She mouths the lines as they come, thoroughly entertained.

It's not until _Stand By Me_ that Steve begins to relax. Natasha falls asleep against his shoulder shortly after the boys set off on their journey, and when she wakes up, the movie's over, and Steve and Sam are discussing it with gusto.

She blinks at them and goes back to sleep. _Men_.

  
  


"Carla from cyber-comp is newly divorced, I think."

"Good for her?"

He picks up his pace and she has to skip a little to keep up. They're carving a path through Easton Town Center in pursuit of a ping. Bucky was spotted in an Apple Store when he accidentally activated the webcam on one of the laptops. Sam went ahead to get a bird's eye view (he'd laughed, somewhat affectionately, when Steve said that) on the surrounding area.

"I don't know where she's working now, but she's probably still single. She was always a bit of a head case; not sure who was brave enough to marry her." Steve gives her a look that suggests she's approaching this whole setup thing all wrong. "Cute, though. Brunette, bossy. Right up your alley."

"Where do you even get this information from?"

She grins at him. "I have my ways."

The Apple Store moves into view and Steve darts ahead, yelling over his shoulder, "Find new ways—you're way off base!"

What the hell does _that_ mean?

She doesn't think on it too long, though; she gives Sam their position and unzips her jacket in case she needs quick access to her gun. Steve's already swept the store when Natasha catches up.

Bucky's not there.

It's not the first time a ping's turned up empty, but it's one of the few times they were reasonably close enough to catch him. Steve stands, forlorn and upset, in the middle of the store, unmindful of the other customers paying him suspicious looks. Natasha plucks the sunglasses from her jacket pocket and slides them on before she's recognized.

Then she notices something strange.

"Steve," she says, approaching the MacBook table at the farthest reach of the store. A single laptop has been closed and it strikes her as odd. Steve joins her as she flips the top open.

What they find is utterly heartbreaking.

"It's us," Steve says, his voice nothing more than a breath of air. The browser is open to a web page detailing the history of Steve's relationship with Bucky. A photo sits above some text, depicting younger (and in Steve's case, scrawnier) versions of both boys in the middle of a laugh, arms draped across each other's shoulders.

"They met early in their youth," Natasha reads, "when Barnes stepped in to save Rogers from bullies—as he would make a habit of doing over the course of their friendship. They were inseparable until Barnes shipped out to England shortly after the United States joined the Second World War. Rogers had received four rejections from the U.S. Army and was planning to enlist a fifth time; this destined encounter with Dr. Abraham Erskine would lead to Rogers receiving the Super Soldier Serum and becoming Captain America. By then, Barnes was already deep into the heart of war, but fate would bring these two childhood friends together again."

"Fate," Steve scoffs, shoving his fists into the pockets of his cargo jacket. "Like everything always works out the way it's supposed to."

Natasha's heart clenches, and when Steve walks away, she follows without a word. The man in the photograph looks so little like the man they're chasing that Natasha can't help but wonder if their rescue op wasn't doomed from the start.

  
  


"I find it really difficult to believe that you've never been to Denny's," Sam's saying when they slip into a booth later that evening.

Steve slides into an easy smile—the first one Natasha's seen all day. "I guess no one ever thought to recommend it to me. It's not like we didn't have breakfast in the thirties." 

"But did you have _all-day_ breakfast in the thirties?" Sam fires back, giving Steve a toothy grin.

"You could order eggs and bacon from pretty much any diner in Brooklyn regardless of what time it was, and we didn't need a whole chain of restaurants to do it."

"Hey." Sam points an accusatory finger at Steve, but the smile remains. "Don't knock the chain. You're in our house now."

" _Our house_?" Natasha mimics, but goes largely unnoticed as the boys continue to tease each other.

  
  


"Lisa from biotech—"

"I did actually ask her out," Steve says, somewhat strained as he does a set of push-ups on the hotel carpet, Natasha straddling his back because normal push-ups aren't challenging enough for Captain America, apparently. "She turned me down."

The shock of that statement nearly knocks Natasha off balance. She grabs the collar of Steve's shirt and clenches her thighs against his waist to keep from sliding off. "Wait—really?"

"You're choking me," Steve says, and Natasha's quick to release her grip. "She told me she likes women."

" _Lisa_ from _biotech_?" Natasha does a quick fact check. She met Lisa once at work but never found the opportunity to ask her any personal questions. Long blonde hair, glasses, argyle sweaters—a sophisticated, nerdy type of cute. Natasha thinks she would've hit that if Lisa pinged her _other_ radar. "Are you sure she didn't just say that to spare your feelings?"

"It's possible," Steve says, sounding neutral and diplomatic. "But it seems less likely that a straight woman—any straight woman would turn down a date with Captain America."

Natasha's a second away from objecting to this poor world view when she feels his body trembling with quiet laughter.

"You're screwing with me," she says, and when he doesn't even _stop_ doing push-ups to cackle at her, she feels the need to stab a pressure point in his neck to make his arms give out. "What happened to always being honest?"

"It wasn't getting me anywhere with you," he admits, and she can only roll her eyes before climbing off his back. Sue her for trying to jump start her friend's pitifully lacking love life. 

She's not angry, though. She's mostly glad she didn't miss an opportunity to hook up with Lisa from biotech.

  
  


Thirst wakes her up in the middle of the night, but the alarming presence of subdued sound keeps her body immobilized until she can register her traveling companions in the neighboring bed as the source of the noise.

"Sometimes I feel like I'm just fooling myself."

The low rumble of Steve's whispered confession shakes Natasha into full consciousness. She wants to see what time it is because they're leaving tomorrow and it's Steve's turn to drive, and she thinks that maybe he needs to be reminded of this, but her back is turned towards the clock and she feels a greater compulsion to maintain the facade of being asleep so she can eavesdrop.

"It'll never be like it was before," Steve continues. "Even if we find Bucky, if we can earn his trust, convince him of who he used to be—he'll never be the same Bucky I grew up with."

"Hey, I've seen a dorky little guy turn into a massive green rage machine," Sam says. "You should never be afraid to question what's possible."

"Do you think I can get the old Bucky back?"

"I don't know. I don't know what's going on inside Bucky's head. But I know what's going on inside yours, and I can be sure of one thing: if someone believed in me as much as you believe in Bucky, I wouldn't doubt for a second that I could do anything." There's some rustling and then Sam adds, "Bucky will see that eventually. We won't give up until he does."

There's a stretch of silence, and Natasha thinks they might've fallen asleep, but then Steve murmurs something so faintly she barely hears it: "You do have someone who believes in you."

Sam's reply is just as soft. "I believe in you, too, Steve."

Natasha ignores her thirst and goes back to sleep.

  
  


"What about Special Agent Morse?"

Steve jerks the wheel left and runs a car off the road. It tips over and lands right side up on the grass strip between opposing lanes.

They're being chased by HYDRA flunkies on the highway. Sam is on the roof shooting at windshields and trying not to die.

"How many—wait, Morse?" He steps on the gas and changes lanes, passing the car in front them. "Why does that sound so familiar?"

Alarms that have nothing to do with the gunfire on her side of the road go off in Natasha's head. "You've been on a few missions with her," she says, as casually as possible, but it's hard to sound casual when she's frantically ducking bullets and taking shots from the passenger window.

"No, that's not it." He swerves right and cuts off the car that's firing at Natasha. The car rear-ends them and there's a scuffle on the roof, followed by Sam's unintelligible shouting. "First name Bobbi?"

Shit. "Yeah."

"Bobbi Morse?" he reiterates, and Natasha's reloading her gun but she can _feel_ Steve's pointed stare fall over her for the brief second he's able to spare from the road. "Your ex-girlfriend Bobbi Morse?"

Natasha really hoped he wouldn't remember. "She's not—yeah, that Bobbi Morse."

"You're trying to fix me up with your ex-girlfriend? Aren't there rules against that in this century?"

She grins at him before launching halfway out the window to fire at the car behind them. "You know I like to break rules."

"How about the rule that says I need to date someone?"

"No one's telling you to date these women, Steve," she yells over the chaos. She manages to shoot a tire and the car spins out, jamming traffic. A few HYDRA goons climb out of their cars and unleash fire but Steve speeds out of range. Natasha slips back through the window and collapses against her seat with a satisfied smirk. "But even Captain America needs to fondue every once in a while."

His laughter is fond and a little bit bashful. "Don't make me regret telling you that."

"Don't tell me things that still embarrass you, then."

They share a smile until the unexpected crack of gunfire produces a howl of pain from above them, and Steve lets go of the wheel to climb out his window and grab Sam before he can fall off the roof.

Natasha takes the wheel in time to stop them from crashing—but only just. 

  
  


Hospitals. God, if Natasha never has to see the inside of a hospital again, it'll be too soon. She knows the odds with her line of work, but even after months the wound is too fresh. She looks into the operating room and sees a flash of Nick Fury, sees the officially declared corpse of her commander, mentor, friend. She looks at Steve and it brings her back to the present, because this time Steve is crying. Not much, but enough to remind her that it's Sam fighting for his life in there.

Fighting for his life is an overstatement, actually. He'd been conscious when they brought him in with a bullet in his shoulder. Still, anything can happen on the operating table, and an injury like this could cost him his wings.

Natasha buys a pack of cards from the gift shop and they play a few hands of gin rummy, but Steve has trouble concentrating and Natasha tires of easy wins, so they switch to slapjack because it's mindless and repetitive.

Visiting hours end before they get to see Sam. They grab a single room at the closest motel because it's cheaper than a double and they figure they'll leave as soon as Sam is released. Natasha thinks it must look like they're having an affair or a one night stand but they have more important things to worry about.

Steve is sullen and gloomy the entire night, but he lets Natasha fall asleep with her arm around his waist.

  
  


"You're already interested in someone, aren't you?"

Steve looks up from his book— _Catch-22_ , another of Sam's recommendations. "Maybe," he says.

They've been sitting in companionable silence all morning, Steve in the chair to Sam's left and Natasha on the right. Sam's surgery went well; he's yet to wake up, but he's expected to make a full recovery with only a few months of physical therapy to regain complete use of his arm. Steve's mood has risen considerably, so Natasha feels comfortable broaching a familiar, mundane topic.

"Maybe you're interested in someone but don't know for sure, or maybe you're interested in someone but don't want to tell me?"

"One of those, yeah."

She rolls her eyes. "You're a pain in the ass."

His mouth curls halfway between a smile and a smirk, but there's genuine affection in his eyes. "The feeling is mutual."

That's when Sam begins to stir.

Steve nearly jumps to his feet and approaches the bed, watching Sam blink and squint his way into the waking world. "On your left," Steve says softly, taking one of Sam's hands into both of his and stroking the back with a gentle thumb.

The smile they share is strikingly intimate, and Natasha finally figures it out.

  
  


Natasha's pushing a wheelchair back to Sam's room when she hears the boys engaged in tense discussion and her spy instincts kick in again, compelling her to stand outside the door and eavesdrop.

"There's no reason for you to stay with me in DC," Sam's saying. "You're already losing ground by taking me back. Who knows how far Bucky will get in a few days—much less a few _months_ —"

"This isn't about Bucky," Steve argues. "I'm not leaving you behind. We do this together or not at all."

"But you have Natasha—"

"We do this together or not at all," Steve repeats with more volume and insistence. Natasha can only imagine the looks they're giving each other. "You were injured helping _me_ , Sam. I'm not letting you go through the recovery alone."

"But Bucky—"

"I want Bucky back, but not at any expense to you. You're... I mean, you know."

"I am?"

"Yeah."

"Good. You're—yeah, me too."

Natasha shakes her head and laughs quietly. _Men_.

  
  


"You could've told me, you know," Natasha says, giving Steve a meaningful look when they hit a red light.

They're less than an hour away from DC and Sam is in the back seat, dozing.

"It was more fun waiting for you to figure it out," Steve says with an obnoxious smirk that Natasha really needs to slap off.

"I tried to set you up with the entirety of SHIELD's female personnel. I gave you permission to date my ex— _Special Agent Morse_. I was willing to waive the code for you!"

"It's the thought that counts," he says sweetly.

She rolls her eyes. "Why do I even bother?"

He laughs, but says nothing else. The light turns green and they keep driving. Natasha sees him turn around in his seat to check on Sam, who's been quiet for most of the ride. His arm is in a sling and he looks tired, a little drugged, but otherwise he's good. They're all good.

She wonders how Steve's coping. The rescue op was a bust, but she supposes he's not leaving entirely empty-handed. None of them are.

At the beginning of their trip he made a vow to follow Bucky wherever he goes; now he's trading that vow for a new one made to Sam. Or—maybe not trading. Prioritizing. For now.

"No regrets?" she says, rolling down the windows as they merge onto the highway, their final route to DC.

He smiles at her, bold and confident. "No regrets," he echoes. "Sam keeps me in the present—he makes me _want_ to be here. I'll help him get his wings back, and then we'll go get Bucky."

"Together or not at all," she parrots, and grins victoriously when Steve turns his head to hide a blush. She catches a glimpse of it before it's gone.

A few moments later, he says, "You know that includes you, right?" and gives her a completely serious look. "I would've made the same call if it had been you. The three of us are a team. We want you with us—in whatever ways you can give."

She smiles, genuinely touched, but keeps her eyes on the road, feigning nonchalance. "I guess it might be nice to stay in one place for a bit."

"I know; I'm sick of driving," he agrees, and they laugh.

Bucky will still be out there when they're ready to try again.

And Natasha will be there for her boys when they need her.


End file.
